


Together

by montymoonshine (orphan_account)



Series: responsibilities 'verse [1]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Kid Fic, Pregnancy, honestly its literally just so cute, i loved writing this, pure fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-04
Updated: 2016-06-04
Packaged: 2018-07-12 07:16:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7091143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/montymoonshine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You don’t have to do anything. Just promise me one thing. We’ll do this together. Me and Clarke, you and Lincoln. It’s going to be tough, but we’ll get through it. Together."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Together

**Author's Note:**

> i'm not even sorry it was too cute not to write.  
> the first installment in the 'responsibilities' verse, part two to come if you guys like it?  
> bear in mind this is unbeta'd please!
> 
> if you have any questions or prompts, hit me up at bigriffin @ tumblr.

He’s small. Smaller than Bellamy had thought, with his tiny fist the size of Bellamy’s finger and body not much longer than his forearm, resting snugly in his arms. The tiny bundle of skin and body and not much else is barely visible beneath the copious blankets, a hat placed upon his head to keep him warm, small curls peeking out underneath.

The nurses had told him how to hold him properly; one hand supporting the head and one on the body, though he’d still hesitated. He’d been scared, terrified even, yet Clarke insisted he was a natural. She would remind him of the stories he would tell of him looking after Octavia as a baby, feeding and holding her, calming her down.

Bellamy studies his face, the small eyes yet to open, face scrunched. He’s red in the face, just like Clarke, and his wispy curls are identical to hers, sparse yet wild. His small hand opens, chubby fingers grasping at nothing, exploring the world. He’s perfect.

“He looks like you.” Clarke says, chest heaving. Her hair is dishevelled, forehead covered in sweat from the last hour and a half, though she still has a faint grin on her face, eyes shining. It’s obvious their little boy gets his stubbornness from her, taking his sweet time.

“You think so?” Bellamy asks. His small eyes open to show the brightest blue eyes he’s ever seen, boring into his own. He has Clarke’s eyes, he thinks, a few tears escaping from his own. Don’t get Bellamy wrong – he’s not a crier. But in times like these, with a bundle of joy tucked in his arms and the love of his life on a hospital bed, he has every right.

“I know so, Bell. He’s perfect, just like you.”

It’s only in that moment does a small fist grip onto one of his fingers. His grip is weak, yet soft against Bellamy’s finger, and he’s never felt more loved than he does in this moment.

“What should we name him?”

“I don’t know, Clarke. He’ll always be my little peanut to me.” Bellamy had constantly been calling him peanut ever since they found out. They’d been for an ultrasound, having their suspicions, and ever since the doctor had confirmed about their little miracle, the nickname stuck.

“Bell, please,” Clarke laughs. “What about Alec?”

“It’s perfect, just like you.” Bellamy repeated her words, otherwise speechless. Alec was beginning to gurgle, trying to form words, though the two new parents couldn’t understand a word, laughing and grinning so much until their cheeks ached.

 

* * *

 

“Mr and Mrs Blake? You have a visitor.” The nurse called, door opening ajar. A pop of messy black hair and flowers came into view, and Bellamy didn’t have to wonder one moment who it was.

“Octavia!” He exclaimed, surprised at seeing her. He hadn’t seen his sister for months, with her recent honeymoon away with Lincoln taking up her time. Bellamy had been unsure of him at first, his protective instincts taking over, yet he’d soon realised he was the best he’d ever seen for his little sister.

“Congratulations, Bell, Clarke. You both deserved this, and he’s beautiful. I’m so happy for you two.”

“Thank you, Octavia. How’s Lincoln?” Clarke asks, half falling asleep, with Alec back in his crib, tucked away, up to his chest in a blanket.

“Actually,” Octavia announces, “I have something to tell Bell. In private, if that’s okay Clarke?”

“Of course. I should probably rest now, after, well. That.”  
Bellamy kisses Clarke’s heated forehead softly before leaving the room, following Octavia out, washing his hands on the way.

“So what did you have to tell me, O? How’s the honeymoon going?”

“It’s going amazing. Lincoln’s amazing. Bell, I’ve never been more in love than I am now.” She says, hand placed on top of his in support, like they always do. Whenever they’d go through something complicated, the two had held hands, encouraged each other through it, without words.

“I’m proud of you, big brother. So proud. You’re going to be such a good father, and I know you never had a father figure you could look up to, and that’s tough. But you’re going to be amazing at this.”

“What are you trying to tell me, O? There’s something else...”

She takes a deep breath and closes her eyes before confessing, “I guess, what I’m trying to say, is that you’ll be as good a father as you will be an uncle.”

Bellamy’s taken aback, his eyes blinking in disbelief and hand clammy on top of his sister’s.

“But I thought you said?”

“We went to the doctor a little while ago. They said we-I couldn’t get pregnant, but I had a test, and-“

“You’re pregnant? O this is amazing! I’m-I’m going to be an uncle! Congratulations, baby sister.” Bellamy breathes quickly, thinking as if he didn’t say it quick enough.

He still remembers the day Octavia was born. Kicking and screeching, small fists pounding against Aurora’s leg, wailing. He’d been the first to hold her, innocent eyes staring into his as their mother cleaned up and had gone to retrieve something in another room, leaving five year old Bellamy with his baby sister, unaware of what to do.

“Do you want to feel her?” She asks, eyes shooting back to her bump. It wasn’t noticeable for most, but Bellamy had noticed the small curve of her stomach and that glow in her eyes, the same glow Clarke had gotten.

“Of course I do, O.” He replies, letting Octavia move his hand onto her belly, palm splayed out.

He can feel slight kicks against his hand, revelling in the moment. “I remember when Mom asked me if I wanted to feel you kick,” he starts, “and I did. You were uncontrollable, O, you wouldn’t stop. Mom always said how irritating it got. And now you’re here. All grown up, having a baby of your own. “

“I don’t know whether to hit you or to cry, Bell.” Octavia replies, free hand shooting up to her eyes to stop the tears from falling.

“You don’t have to do anything. Just promise me one thing. We’ll do this together. Me and Clarke, you and Lincoln. It’s going to be tough, but we’ll get through it. Together.”


End file.
